


Rude (and Not Ginger)

by LizzyLovegood



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Family, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, Marriage Proposal, Pete's World, Song Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:37:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyLovegood/pseuds/LizzyLovegood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After five years in Pete's World, the Doctor has an important question for Pete and Jackie. If only they would stick to the script!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rude (and Not Ginger)

**Author's Note:**

> Very (very, very) loosely based off of the Magic! song, Rude.
> 
> This was originally posted to FF on 11/1/14 under Lizzy Lovegood.

Pete Tyler was well-used to being woken in the early hours of the morning. Being the director of Torchwood, it was an occupational hazard. Agents had to be able to reach him at any time of the day or night, whether it be for alien emergencies, a bureaucratic visit, or Cindy-the-secretary’s up and quitting after the seventh incident with the temperamental fax machine.

 _Temperamental_ , of course, was the word the Doctor used. Everyone else called it _exploding_.

“It’s just a bit temperamental, Pete, that’s all,” he’d insisted. “Little bit of jiggery-pokery and she’ll be good as new!”

“I think we’ve had enough jiggery-pokery for one day, Doctor.” Rose, displaying her usual infinite patience for her boyfriend’s antics, laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Have we, though?” The Doctor waggled his eyebrows in her direction, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist as he stood. “Have we really?”

“Yes,” said Pete firmly. It was his Dad-voice, not his Director-voice, and he grimaced when Rose sent him a guilty grin over the Doctor’s shoulder. Along with the loss of his Time Lord self’s emotional inhibitions, this Doctor held no such primitive aversion to relating his and Rose’s carnal activities. It had made for several uncomfortable Sunday dinners.

Still, Pete always took care to remember, if it weren’t for this man - this incredible, infuriating man - there would be no Sunday dinners, uncomfortable or no. There would be no Jackie, no Rose, no Tony. That was something he could never repay and if the worst he had to put up with were a few volatile appliances then he would do his best to tolerate a few singed eyebrows.

Pete tried his best to remember this when he answered the fierce, early-morning knocking, armed with the pistol he kept in his bedside drawer, to find that very same infuriating man standing on his front stoop.

“Morning, Pete.” The Doctor raised a hand in cheerful greeting, wiggling his fingers. He nodded toward the gun, frowning slightly. “Careful with that, I’ve only got the one heart you know.”

This Doctor may not have inherited his counterpart’s total anathema toward any and all weaponry, it was still a bone of contention between the two men and had led to several shouting matches regarding Torchwood protocol and extraterrestrial threats across the dinner table. The very fact that he didn’t admonish Pete further for carrying it sent his guard up.

“Doctor.” Pete slowly lowered the gun and let the Doctor brush past him, into the house. “Is everything alright?”

“Yep.”

“Is Rose alright?”

“Yep. She’d fall under the category of everything, wouldn’t she? In fact, if you were to ask me, which you did, I’d say she’s most of the everything. _My_ everything. Ooh, that’s cliche, isn’t it? Ah, well. But yes, she’s fine and dandy. Snoring up a storm at the moment, which is why I - well, no. That’s a lie. Very bad liar, I am. But. . . .”

“Doctor,” said Pete, patience fraying. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Yep. Well done, by the way, answering the door so quickly like that. Wake me up in the middle of a REM cycle and I just flop out of bed, me. Rose is the quick one. Which, I’ve got to tell you, _is_ slightly frustrating when you’re in the mood for a morning cuddle and she’s already half-dressed.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here, you bloody duffer?” Brandishing a blow-dryer with one hand and clutching her sleep mask in the other, Jackie made her way down the stairs towards them.

“Jax,” Pete wheeled to face his wife. “Jax, I told you to stay upstairs.” Originally, the command had been for her safety; now, if the glare she was sending the Doctor was an indication, he wasn’t so sure.

“Yes, Jackie, why don’t you do that?” Mouth twisting in distaste, the Doctor averted his eyes from her berobed and frizzy-haired form.

“Shut it, you. You think I’m getting dolled-up for someone who comes barging in at this time, you’ve got another thing coming. And you,” she rounded on Pete, “chattering away down here like the best of friends. He’ll be here till sunrise if you don’t nip it in the bud now.”

“ _He_ is standing right here, you know,” said the Doctor dryly.

“We’ll be fine,” Pete assured her. And, not entirely sure why he was defending him, “The Doctor was just leaving. Go back to bed.”

“I was not!”

“He was not! And stop shouting,” she snapped, “you’ll wake Tony.”

“Oh, _I’ll_ wake Tony, Mrs. Tyler McShouty? Ooh, I quite like that.” The Doctor paused, grinning broadly, as though marveling at his own brilliance. “Or Shouty McTyler. What do you think, Pete? S’pose it’d be your surname, too. Or did you hyphenate?”

“The first one,” said Pete, not particularly sure what he was agreeing to. “Doctor, what are you doing here?”

“Ah. Yes. Right. _That._ ” The Doctor shifted from foot to foot and it took Pete a moment to recognize the action as one of nervousness. “Was wondering when we’d get to that. You humans and your preoccupation with time. On the other side of the world people are eating chips and falling in love and asking important, life-altering questions right now but over here you lot just complain about how early it is when really I’m just the one getting a headstart. It’s what I’m always telling Rose. Time’s relative on the TARDIS, so why not. . . .”

The Doctor’s rambling was abruptly cut short by the sound of palm against flesh. Pete would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful but it was impossible not to feel a little bit bad as the Doctor, bright pink cheek cradled in one hand, turned to them with a beseeching, bewildered expression.

“What was that for?”

“No Rose to have your back this time, is there?”

That is, unless you were an incensed Jackie Tyler.

“Jackie, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” To his credit, the Doctor’s voice remained even but Pete didn’t miss his subtle retreat out of slapping range.

“You gave that up when you gave her up, didn’t you?“

“Give who - give _Rose_ up?” The Doctor looked dumbfounded. “Jackie, I have no intention of giving anyone up. Particularly not your daughter.”

“Oh, so that’s why you were just whining about old times on the TARDIS, was it? That’s why you snuck out in the middle of the night? That’s why you’re wearing that same suit you wore on the beach?” Jackie closed the space between them in seconds, punctuating each question with a hard shove to his chest.

“This is my best suit,” the Doctor argued, sounding hurt. “I’d’ve worn my tux, but Rose says it’s unlucky.”

“So you’re worried about luck, are you? Worried about getting lucky when the other one picks you up and you go to some alien strip joint? Or are you just having some massive Time Lord orgy?”

“Jax.” Taking pity on the Doctor’s incoherent sputtering, Pete laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Jax, come on now, you know the Doctor wouldn’t. . . .”

“Oh, wouldn’t he?” Jackie’s eyes flashed. “Wouldn’t he, Pete? Just like he wouldn’t run off with a French tart and leave our daughter and Mickey stranded?”

“That,” the Doctor swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, “that is taken wildly out of context.”

“And now you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Shrugging Pete’s hand off, Jackie pinned him with a fierce glare. “You’ve gotten bored of this life but you’re too much of a coward to tell her so you think you can just pass the message on and we’ll do the dirty work for you.”

“It’s Saturday morning, I had to come. I told you, Pete, didn’t I? I told you Rose is a light sleeper, so I had to wait until her nose twitched because that means she’s in a deep sleep and sometimes she has this cute little snort that goes along with it. But don’t mention that, alright? It embarrasses her. Point is, I had to race like a jet all the way over here to you and I have to get back before she catches on.”

“Damn right she’ll catch on.” Neither man had noticed Jackie’s departure but now she returned, blow-dryer and sleep mask abandoned in favor of her mobile. “I’m calling her right now and you’re going to explain to her just exactly what it is you’re planning on doing.”

“No!” Pete had never seen the Doctor move so fast, snatching the phone from Jackie’s grasp the second she punched in the final digit. He slammed the phone shut, breathing hard.

“Don’t _do_ that!”

“You give that back to me, Doctor. You give that back right now.”

Jackie had abandoned her shouting for a voice that was eerily calm. It wasn’t a voice she had occasion to use often but it was one Pete recognized from a few nasty rows - most memorably, when he had accused her of loving him less than his parallel-world doppelganger. It was the voice that said she could kill you and make it look like an accident and, judging by the Doctor’s expression, he knew it too.

“Only if you promise not to call her.” Holding the phone out of reach, the Doctor backed slowly away, eyes never leaving hers, never turning his back.

“I am _not_ letting you break her heart again.”

“I’m not going to, Jackie, I promise. If you’ll just let me explain. . . . Give me five minutes and if you still want to call her then, so be it. I won’t stop you.”

Eyes narrowing, Jackie leaned forward, inspecting the Doctor’s face for any sign of a lie. Save for a slight tic in his left eye, the Doctor didn’t move, barely even breathed. Finally, she nodded.

“Five minutes.”

The Doctor exhaled in relief, dropping the mobile obligingly into her outstretched hand. “Great. Brilliant. Molto bene. Thank you, Jackie. Now,” he flashed what Pete was sure he considered his most winning grin, “Pete. Pete, Pete, Pete.”

“Doctor.” It was a safe reply, or so he hoped.

“Pete.” The Doctor breathed in then out again, roughly. “I knocked on your door this morning, heart in my hand, to ask you a question. Not literally, of course - about the heart, I mean. That’d be a bit messy, wouldn’t it? Heart in your hand? And as I said, I’ve only got one so that would be the end of me and there wouldn’t really be any time for question-asking in the first place.”

“Four minutes,” said Jackie casually, but Pete caught her shadow of a smirk. For the millionth time, he was reminded of why he loved his wife.

“Jackie, I’m a Lord of Time. Well, half-Lord of Time. And that can’t _possibly_ have been - never mind. Point is, Pete, I know you’re an old-fashioned man.”

“Since when?” Pete asked. If it prevented more of these early-morning visits, then he could be as liberal as they came.

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. “Well, since Christmas really.”

“Christmas.”

“Yep.” Taking Pete’s terse response for permission to expound on his favorite topic, the Doctor continued, “Remember, when you walked in on us. . . .”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Right. Yes. Suppose that’s . . . a bit hard to forget.” The shadow of a fond smile flitted across the Doctor’s face and Pete tightened his hold on the pistol, just for a second. “But, Pete, really, there was _mistletoe_. You put mistletoe somewhere, it’s only a matter of time before people have sex under it. ‘Course, it might be a few centuries before it becomes a cultural norm, but if you’re going to put up such a fuss every time, it makes far more sense to have it in the bedroom.”

Pete squelched the urge to argue that being found mid-coitus in your host’s sitting room - particularly when said host was father to the woman in the aforementioned coital equation - warranted much more than a fuss. It wouldn’t make any difference.

“If you’re just gonna stand there and insult me, I can call her right now,” snapped Jackie who seemed more offended at the attack on her decorating skills than the unscheduled festivities that had occurred due to the presence - or, as the case may be, lack - of them. “Don’t see what difference a couple of minutes is going to make, anyway, not with the way you’re babbling on.”

“No!” Diving for the phone again, the Doctor was forced to pull up short, fingers twitching, as Jackie shoved it down the front of her dressing gown. “Jackie, please don’t do this.”

“If you had something to say, you would’ve said it already.”

“Pete.” Something wild and entirely alien in his eyes, the Doctor strode across the foyer toward him; involuntarily, Pete stumbled back but the Doctor only followed, backing him against the far wall, close enough to kiss if either had been so inclined. Instead, the Doctor dropped to one knee.

“Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, ‘cause I need to know.” With trembling fingers, the Doctor reached into his suit pocket, taking out a pink velvet box which he flipped open to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.

Pete blinked.

Jackie screeched.

“YES! Yes, yes, yes - oh, dear Lord, _yes_!” Pulling the Doctor to his feet, she peppered his face with kisses, arms wrapped around his waist in an inescapable hold. “Oh, why didn’t you just say that in the first place, you _ridiculous_ man?”

“Er. . . .” Squirming in the tight embrace, the Doctor cast a helpless look in Pete’s direction. One which Pete pointedly ignored. “You do realize I’m not proposing to _you_ , Jackie. . . .”

Jackie gave his arm an affectionate slap as she squeezed him again. “Of course I know that, you great idiot. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to get around to it? Back in Norway, I thought it was a done deal - a month or two at the most. But five years, it’s been. _Five_!”

The Doctor started at the sudden exclamation, looking wary, and she patted his cheek. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Knew you’d get around to it, eventually. ‘Course, you might’ve chosen a better time. . . .”

Unwilling to re-enter the conversation, Pete settled for a vague noise of assent, unsurprised when he received no quelling glance or witty retort from either party. Once Jackie entered full-on planning mode, she was as unstoppable as any alien horde.

“. . . still, doesn’t matter, you’re family now. Won’t be able to catch a wink now, anyway. I’ll have to call Lynda the second she gets into the office.”

“Er. . . .”

“Our party planner. She can start sorting out venues. There’s this lovely cathedral we used for Tony’s christening - it’ll probably be booked solid through next year, though. Never can start too soon with a wedding - there’s always so much to do.”

“Do?” The Doctor looked, if possible, even more terrified at this explanation.

Best leave them to it. Pete edged slowly toward the stairs; he might even manage a full three hours before his usual weekend wake-up call of his son’s sharp elbow to the stomach.

“Of course.” Jackie beamed, the earliness of the hour apparently forgotten. “The invitations, the guest list, the dress - I always wanted to give Rose mine, but I’ve been hoarding away bridal mags since we got here, let me tell you. . . .” Taking in the Doctor’s panicked expression, she cut herself off.

“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, sweetheart. You just show up at the altar and. . . .”

“But you weren’t supposed to say yes!”

Pete halted his ascent and, sighing, turned reluctantly round.

“What?” Jackie’s voice was barely more than a whisper - whether due to anger or anguish Pete wasn’t sure. Either way, it made him want to acquaint the Doctor’s face with his knuckles.

“You’re not supposed to give me your blessing until the day I die!” the Doctor continued, looking highly distressed. “I mean, look at me - I have commitment issues, I consistently put Rose in life-threatening danger, I have sexual intercourse with her in your sitting room. . . . And - and,” he floundered, snapping the ring box open and shut in his agitation, “ _and_ ,” he yelped as it shut on his pinkie finger, “I’m rude and not ginger! That’s why I asked you, Pete, I know _you_ disapprove of me.”

“I certainly do now,” Pete retorted.

“Good! That’s good! Brilliant, Pete!” Darting over to him again, the Doctor dropped to one knee. “Now, can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, ‘cause I need to know.”

“What are you doing?”

The Doctor made a flapping motion with the hand that wasn’t holding the ring box. “Jackie, you already messed this up once. Go on, Pete, it’s your line.”

“Messed it up? How did _I_  mess it up?”

“What line?”

“Oh, do you need prompting? Sorry, she is a bit loud, isn’t she?” The Doctor tilted his head back at Jackie. “Can I have your daughter for-”

“Ooh, it’s because I said yes instead of Pete, isn’t it? Never mind I’m the one who raised her, you need to ask the _man of the house_. Not like her mother’s opinion matters, does it?”

“It doesn’t if you’re going to go and say a stupid thing like _yes_ when I ask to marry her,” the Doctor snapped.

“Well, what am I supposed to say? You’re the one who’s left me hanging for five bloody years!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes skyward. “You’re supposed to follow the script!”

“What script?”

“What script? What script, she says. _The_ script. The one everyone uses. Pete knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, Pete?”

“No,” said Pete.

“Oh, come on, it can’t have been that long ago. When you asked Jackie’s old dad and he said tough luck, but no still means no, and you asked why he had to be so rude and - and . . . oh, you really don’t, do you? Bugger.”

“My dad loved Pete,” Jackie argued, a bald-faced lie if the parallel-world Mr. Prentiss had been as fond of his son-in-law’s inventions as this world’s.

The Doctor only flapped a hand at her again, running the other agitatedly through his hair. “Shite, I really thought - no matter, I’ll talk you through it, might even have,” he reached into his suit pocket again, retrieving a much-folded and crumpled bit of paper with a triumphant _aha!_  before thrusting it in Pete’s direction. Numbly, Pete took it, scanning the page with its’ scribbled notations - both in English and the strange, circular writing that Rose told him was Gallifreyan - and neatly-typed script. Jackie peered over his shoulder, snorting as she read over the lines labeled _Pete_ and _Doctor_.

“This isn’t a script, you dumbo.”

“I realize that, Jackie.” The Doctor’s voice dripped with condescension. “It’s been a part of your society for generations, but they only documented it recently. I suppose you lot chose verse form because it’s the most palatable but, I grant you, it is a bit confusing for our purposes. I’ve highlighted your lines in orange, Pete. As you can see, we’re going with the run away to another galaxy option.”

“Option?” said Jackie. “Who said there was an option?”

“Saves you the trouble of being my boy standing at the altar.” The Doctor continued, deadpan, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Plus there’s all that ambiguity about loving me or hating me. In the end I make Rose happy and she makes me happy and that’s all that should really matter, shouldn’t it?”

“Not to me, it doesn’t.” Tearing the paper from Pete’s grasp, Jackie stabbed at it with a manicured fingernail. “Think it’s that easy, do you - just because you think my Rose’ll _follow you anywhere you go_ that it gives you permission to elope on Mars?”

“Yes!” Looking impressed that she had grasped the concept so quickly, the Doctor’s wide grin quickly faded in the face of Jackie’s fierce glare. “What? I’m allowed to refuse. Don’t you know I’m human, too?”

“This isn’t a script!” Jackie shouted, exasperated. “It’s life!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve still got the perfect right to refuse anything and everything to do with this whole - this whole rigmarole. Along with refusing to say the word rigmarole ever again.

“And Rose?” asked Jackie.

“Well,” the Doctor shrugged, “I s’pose she can say it, if she wants. You have to make compromises in any relationship.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor, “I do. I did say I was rude, didn’t I? Rude and not ginger _and_ in denial. Master of denial, me. Just ask Rose. It took me ages just to accept I had feelings for her, let alone act on them. She was the one to get things moving in that respect, believe it or not. In this old nightshirt and these bright pink slippers, too. Nauseating color. And you know, I still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the entire universe. Not surprising, really, when you consider that she’s made me horny in a dinner lady costume, but. . . .”

Pete cleared his throat, loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackie flip open her phone again. The Doctor’s eyes widened at the not-so-subtle threat.

“I can’t live without her, Jackie!” the Doctor cried. “And that’s not just a line, either. Christmas Day, right after I - right after the beach the first time, I saved the parallel world from the Racnoss and nearly killed myself in the process. Would have if Donna hadn’t stopped me. Really, she _is_ brilliant, I think you two would’ve gotten along.”

“Supposed to be impressed by that, am I?” Jackie snapped, but Pete heard the undertone of concern in her voice. From the pink flush that suddenly rose in the Doctor’s cheeks, so did he.

“No. No, of course not. ‘Course I don’t.” He tugged uncomfortably at one ear. “Er . . . Rose wasn’t either, if it makes you feel any better. Guess she found one of the parallel universes where Donna wasn’t there and . . .” another, sharper tug this time and Pete watched the flush spread slowly upward, to the very tips of his ears, “she never gave up trying to find me and I - well, I did. Rose was the closest thing I’d had to family in a long time and when I lost her - I thought that was it for me. No more pancake breakfasts or movie nights or Sunday dinner over at your flat, Jackie. But I got a second chance, I got a second _life_ \- that’s singular, you know, one life where we both get old and gray together except Rose’ll probably dye hers and . . . I’ll probably dye mine, too, but if I _did_ go gray, it would look very distinguished. I’d be a - oh, what do you lot call it - a silver fox.”

Jackie snorted and wiped a tear from her eye - an odd combination but then, so was this entire situation. Mid-monologue, the Doctor didn’t appear to notice.

“And I _want_ to be a silver fox for Rose. I’ve never wanted anything like that before but I want it with her. I want to go to - to football matches and science fairs for our children, I want to wake up at two in the morning to change nappies, I want to host Sunday dinners. Not that your cooking’s not just fine, Jackie,” he added, jolting out of his sentimental soliloquy at the reminder that his rapt audience comprised his future in-laws, “it is - _just_ fine. Remember that first Christmas at your flat? After the sword-fight and the Sycorax? I was so happy to be there because I was with Rose and whenever, wherever I am with Rose, I know I’m in the one place I need to be. And I want to give that back to her, that feeling. I want to be a family to her just like she’s been mine. Officially. Doctor and Mrs. Tyler.”

A second tear dripped from Jackie’s eyelash to her cheek.

“Oh, that sounds like another line, doesn’t it - being a family?” Wrinkling his nose, the Doctor nodded toward the paper in Jackie’s hands. “There’s a bit in there about that. It’s not, I swear it’s not. I mean it. A hundred percent. A hundred and ten percent. I’m gonna marry her anyway.”

“Did you think we were stopping you?” asked Pete incredulously. The Doctor ignored him, gaze fixed firmly on Jackie.

“But that,” he continued, “does not mean we need a whole - whole,” he clutched at the air, long fingers grasping futilely for a strong enough term that would not involve the second use of _rigmarole_ and settling for, “wedding.”

Jackie, eyes still wet and shimmery, arched a manicured brow in challenge. “You might not, but I do.”

“I mean, honestly, the whole of Torchwood will be there and me in my unlucky tux. You’re just _asking_ for an alien invasion.”

“I thought you wanted this done officially.”

“Officially.” The Doctor snorted. “Do you know how much official weddings cost these days? You could put Tony through university with that kind of money. And I am not going to pay for a cake with edible ball bearings just to have it destroyed by some Earth-hating lot who got ahold of a save-the-date.”

“I’ve waited five years for this.”

“We’ll send you pictures! And frames! You know there’s a planet, their primary source of income is selling picture frames? That, and toilet-seat covers. We’ll stop there after the ceremony, pick up a few. Frames, I mean, unless you have a hankering for toilet-seat covers, too. How’s that, eh? We have a wedding here, you won’t get any good pictures.”

“We’ll come with you then.” Pete marveled that his wife could announce a trip across the galaxy as matter-of-factly as she would a run down to the corner store.

“What?” the Doctor squeaked.

“Oh, you heard me. Pete and me deserve to be there if no one else does. We’re your family as much as Rose’s now. And I bought Tony the sweetest little ring bearer’s outfit.”

“Ring bear?” the Doctor repeated, sounding almost excited. His shoulders slumped at Jackie’s correction.

“That’s not a problem, is it? Is that some sort of tradition with your people - bears and trained monkeys instead of children? Well,” she sniffed, “they’ve never seen Tony, have they? Still, I’m sure we can - oh, Suze has that Newfoundland, doesn’t she?”

“That isn’t. . . .”

“Pete?” Jackie prompted. “Suze, yeah? In accounting?”

“Er . . . yeah, yeah, she does.” Blinking rapidly and rubbing at his tired eyes, Pete fought to clear the muzziness from his mind. He didn’t want to miss Rose’s wedding any more than Jackie did, but at the moment the issue took a backseat to the warm, inviting bed.

“There we are, then. That’s close enough to a bear, innit? Close as you’re gonna get in London, anyway.”

“Jackie, that’s not. . . .”

“You two pick a date and and we’ll all pop on over to Mars, have a nice ceremony and head on back here for a little reception. Maybe invite a few of the Torchwood lot - you’ve always liked Jake and Andy. Suze, of course. Oh, and Pete’s friend Michael - you met him last Christmas. He and his wife Cass. . . .”

“No. No, no, no - we, Jackie, are not doing anything. Rose and I - yes. You and Pete and the ring bear’s outfit. . . .”

“Bear _er_.”

“See, that’s just what I mean! If it _had_  been a bear . . . but no, how could it be? How could I expect humans to be able to bear - ooh, sorry, pun definitely not intended there - to be able to _comprehend_ something so unorthodox? Then, that’s you lot in a nutshell, isn’t it? Takes you centuries to accept any minor change in your ideology.”

“Just forgotten you are one of _our lot_  now, have you?” Jackie retorted. “How you were going on about how you wanted to _be_ one of our lot?”

“Not like this I don’t! Not with all this - all this hullabaloo,” the Doctor’s nose wrinkled at the word and he corrected himself, “all this fanfare. And that’s what you are going to turn it into, Jacqueline Tyler, don’t you deny it. As if Rose or I would ever be interested in something so conservative, so _mundane_. But then, that’s you humans to a T, isn’t it?”

Jackie didn’t rise to the bait. “Oh, so science fairs and Christmas dinners are fine but a wedding is too mundane? Everyone getting sloshed and throwing a party in your honor - that’s too boring for you?”

“I - I get stage fright!” It was the plea of a drowning man and Pete was faced with a decision: to reach out to the flailing figure, to grasp his hand and pull him to shore . . . or to give him a push - just a little one - and let the currents take him where they would.

And no one had sex under Pete Tyler’s mistletoe.

“I never pegged you for a coward, Doctor.”

“Oh, I am!” The Doctor nodded emphatically, sensing an ally to his cause. “I most certainly am - little fraidy-cat, that’s me. Worse than the Cowardly Lion. _Love_ that film, don’t you? Told you how long it took to get together with Rose, didn’t I? And to propose? Five years. Five _years_. Even more than that if you count her time with the other me. That’s just rubbish. No use really having a wedding, is there?”

Jackie bit back a retort as Pete shot her a meaningful look and he continued undeterred.

“So Christmas hols,” Pete stroked his chin thoughtfully, the lateness of the hour forgotten at the mingled horror and betrayal that filled the Doctor’s eyes, “I take it that was just an anomaly, then? Because you sure didn’t seem too frightened to me. And I’d just love to hear the scientific explanation behind that.”

The Doctor’s eyes grew hard. It reminded Pete of that first night, after his wife and daughter and the man who was but wasn’t the Doctor had returned from that Norwegian bay and Jackie had disclosed to him in hushed tones - as if worried that Rose, fast asleep down the hall, would hear the relief in her voice - just what had happened. He hadn’t been able to believe it, at first - that the man who had wrung his hand, a wide smile plastered across his face but all the while casting furtive, concerned glances in Rose’s direction and had drooped in disappointment when she announced she was heading to bed without so much as a smile in his direction - was capable of slaughtering an entire race without the slightest compunction.

After a while, he had let himself forget. It was easy to, when the Doctor acted so much less the Oncoming Storm (an appellation Pete fervently hoped was a throwback to his Time Lord days and not some bizarre form of pillow talk) and so much more the Annoying Boyfriend. As for Pete, he was the Dad - the Father, if you wanted to get formal about it - and that gave him precedence over anything the Annoying Boyfriend might do. Including denying him the right to refuse a Jackie Tyler-planned wedding after he had barged into their house at three in the morning, asking to do just that (minus the pesky wedding and parents’ approval parts).

But he thought he saw a shadow of that Storm now and that was different matter entirely.

“Caught me out, I suppose.” A brief flash of white as he smiled, though it looked more like a baring of teeth. “There’s only one real problem I have, and that’s with the attire.”

“The attire,” Pete said carefully.

“The attire,” the Doctor agreed, nodding seriously. It might have been funny, that utter earnestness, if not for the fire blazing in his eyes. “In particular, the idea of sending grown women down the aisle in a white dress. It’s a myth, you know, that a white wedding dress symbolizes virginity but if you’re going to insist on perpetuating the stereotype I feel I should clear some things up for you about your daughter’s and my activities.” He paused, not out of mercy but to allow Pete to comprehend the full horror that was to come.

Pete’s eye twitched.

The Doctor’s lip curled.

Pachelbel’s Canon began to blare from Jackie’s breasts. Not taking her eyes off the two men, Jackie fished the now-vibrating mobile from where it rested, peeking out above the white lace of her nightie, and flipped it open.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the spell was broken. Attempting a hasty escape, the Doctor landed flat on his back, arms and legs flailing like an upturned beetle’s. “Tell her I’m not here!” he hissed from the floor.

“Yes, he’s right here.”

“I just left!” Having partially righted himself, the Doctor scooted backwards on his bum. Jackie followed at a leisurely pace. “Jackie, tell her I just left! I went to - to get some things at the store. For waffles! And champagne! Champagne waffles!”

“Spouting nonsense like usual, he is. I think he wants to talk to you, though.”

“No - no! Jackie, don’t you _dare_ \- I have an elaborate plan, a not-to-be-messed-up elaborate, detailed, romantic plan. With bubble bath! And that plan will not commence until - Jackie, we are not done talking about this. Jackie, _Jackie_ , I am warning you, I have seen the end of the universe itself and I will not be cowed by - good morning, love,” he chirped into the phone.

“Dad?” Pete started at the unexpected sound and looked down, half-surprised to find his son standing beside him, one small hand tugging at his shirtsleeve while the other picked at the waist of his too-small, TARDIS-blue pajama bottoms.

“I’m very chummy with your parents,” the Doctor was arguing, “best of chums, we are. Your dad and I, we were just having a nice chat. . . . No, we weren’t _fighting_ \- we never . . . well, alright, once. But he’s forgiven me for that.”

“No, I haven’t,” Pete called idly.

“Dad, is the Doctor makin’ waffles? ‘Cept I heard him saying somethin’ about waffles.”

“Tony, why don’t you go back to bed, sweetheart?” Attention momentarily diverted from the Doctor, Jackie crossed to the pair, nudging  Tony towards the stairs. “The Doctor’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yes. Yes, you did. Yes, that is why the kitchen is such a mess. Nothing gets past you, Rose Tyler. . . . It’s like I always say, you need someone to tell you why your kitchen is a mess, Rose Tyler is your woman. No, I am not being sarcastic! I do so always say that! Yes, I do! Six. _At least_ six.”

“Mum? Is the Doctor makin’ waffles?”

“Really? Straight out of the box? I’d have never have known.” The Doctor tipped Jackie an enormous wink and she rolled her eyes. “Makes Eggo taste like the real thing, your mother does.”

“‘Cept I don’t wanna miss them if he is. ‘Cause he makes ‘em with chocolate chips an’ bananas an’ jam an’ not to listen to Mum when she says I’ll turn die-of-betic. . . .”

“The Doctor’ll be leaving soon, sweetheart. You head back to bed, it’s still early.”

“Yes, I know there’s no call for it. Why do you think I - well, yes, rude and not ginger, that’s me. But that still doesn’t mean I - I am _not_ a crap liar. . . . Only when it comes to you! Yes. Yes, it was. Epitome of romance, me. Yes, I am!”

“An’ he makes ‘em into all these shapes. Like, Adipose and Sontarans and the Nesting Consciousness. That one’s just a huge blobby thing, though but it’s important ‘cause that’s how he met Rose. . . .”

“Tony,” rubbing at her temples, Jackie didn’t bother with any endearments this time, “go back to bed.”

“. . . an’ Rose helped him defeat the Nesting Consciousness an’ that’s when they fell in love!”

“Tony, listen to your mother.”

“Time’s relative, Dad. That’s what the Doctor says.”

“Not at three in the morning, it isn’t,” Pete retorted, well-aware that engaging in a debate with his seven-year-old would end as fruitlessly as that with his son-in-law, but unable to stop himself just the same. It was part of the magic of being a parent, he supposed.

“Yes, it is. That’s what the Doctor says. The Doctor says that when I go to sleep at night there’s another Tony on the other side of the world who’s just waking up an’ that it’s silly for humans for letting a trivial thing like time dictate what they do with their lives. The Doctor says. . . .”

“Tell you what, slip into something comfortable and I’ll be there in two - no, I am not trying to distract you. There’s nothing to distract you from - what could there possibly . . . don’t answer that. Because you’re not thinking clearly, that’s why! Remember that time you were awake for two days straight and thought I . . . that’s beside the point! It wasn’t an alien that - fine, not a _malignant_ alien.”

“. . . and then he lets me stay up an’ watch telly an’ me an’ him an’ Rose all watch Star Trek an’ point out historical inaccuracies till Rose says it’s time for bed an’ then we have to ‘cause Rose said so an’ - is that Rose on the phone?”

“Tony. Bed.”

“No, I am not - why would I be at _your mother’s_ if I was cheating on you? No, wait, don’t even go there - no, just . . . I have _not_ been acting weird lately! I’m always weird! I’m your nutter, remember? Rose?”

“Dad, is that Rose on the phone? It’s Rose, isn’t it? Is Rose coming over? Doctor? Doctor!”

“Tony, he’s on the phone!”

“Because I was supposed to be home by now. The you waking up and finding me gone part wasn’t exactly in the scr-. . . .” The Doctor bit back the last word, swallowing hard. “Yes. That script.”

“Doctor, are you talking to Rose? Is she comin’ over, too? Rose? Rose, are you comin’ over for waffles?”

“Tony!”

“Worth a try, wasn’t it? _You’re_ the one who said you didn’t want all that pomp and . . . yes, that is Tony. He’s wondering if you’re - you are? You want to? Of course I’m not complaining, I’m up for it anywhen, anywhere you know that. Just, three in the morning, bit . . . yes, I _know_ time is relative.”

“See?”

“And you don’t need time to prepare? I know how important - no, I am not _nervous_ , it’s you I’m worried about, Rose Tyler. We don’t have . . . well, we don’t have anything. Rose, while waffles are delicious they are not, by any stretch of the imagination, everything you could possibly need. They have zero nutritional value for one and I don’t want you doing this just because you think it’s something I want. I want whatever you want. I want you to be happy. I want to be everything you could ever - oh,” pink flush rising in his cheeks, the Doctor tugged at his free ear, a sheepish, elated smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I’m a bit daft, aren’t I? And you’re sure? I promise, it’s the last time I’ll ask, I just need to make sure - alright, yes, I’m hanging up now, love you - I _am_. Yes, I am, I will right now. Hanging up right - _now_. . . . Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Can you guys hurry _up_?” Tony groaned. “We know you love each other, but we’re s’posed to be havin’ _waffles_.”

Pete felt an absurd surge of paternal pride and he clapped Tony on the shoulder.

“A _bit_ nervous, yes. Alright, on three. I’ll see you in a bit. Or do you need me to make myself scarce? Pop out to the store, go out with the guys? Your mum suggested an alien orgy. Yes, very chummy, I told you, just a few good chums discussing orgies.”

“What’s an orgy?”

“Crackers,” said Pete at the same time as Jackie.

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. You? You’re sure? Right, sorry, couldn’t help it. On three, then? OK. One, two, three. I love you,” he called into the phone, what one could’ve mistaken for an afterthought if not for the besotted expression on his face.

“Jackie, would you mind calling Suze?” he asked, in the most reasonable tone he’d used all night. “We will have need of her ring bear.”


End file.
